92
“A prisoner?”
“No; a guest,” sarcastically, “but do not overstep the courtesy.”
We left him in conversation with thepère, and I did not even glance back. Chevet breathed heavily, and I caught the mutter of his voice. “What meaneth all this chatter?” he asked gruffly. “Must you two quarrel so soon?”
“Why not?” I retorted. “The man bears me no love; ’tis but gold he thinks about.”
“Gold!” he stopped, and slapped his thighs. “’Tis precious little of that he will ever see then.”
“And why not? Was not my father a land owner?”
“Ay! till the King took it.”
“Then even you do not know the truth. I am glad to learn that, for I have dreamed that you sold me to this coxcomb for a share of the spoils.”
“What? a share of the spoils! Bah! I am no angel, girl, nor pretend to a virtue more than I possess. There is truth in the thought that I might benefit by your marriage to Monsieur Cassion, and, by my faith, I see no wrong in that. Have you not cost me heavily in these years? Why should I not seek for you a husband of worth in these colonies? Wherefore is that a crime? Were you my own daughter I could do no less, and this man is not ill to look upon, a fair-spoken93gallant, a friend of La Barre’s, chosen by him for special service––”
“And with influence in the fur trade.”
“All the better that,” he continued obstinately. “Why should a girl object if her husband be rich?”
“But he is not rich,” I said plainly, looking straight into his eyes. “He is no more than a penniless adventurer; an actor playing a part assigned him by the Governor; while you and I do the same. Listen, Monsieur Chevet, the property at St. Thomas is mine by legal right, and it was to gain possession that this wretch sought my hand.”
“Your legal right?”
“Ay, restored by the King in special order.”
“It is not true; I had the records searched by a lawyer, Monsieur Gautier, of St. Anne.”
I gave a gesture of indignation.
“A country advocate at whom those in authority would laugh. I tell you what I say is true; the land was restored, and the fact is known to La Barre and to Cassion. It is this fact which has caused all our troubles. I overheard talk last night between the Governor and his aide-de-camp, Colonel Delguard––you know him?”
Chevet nodded, his interest stirred.
“They thought themselves alone, and were laughing at the success of their trick. I was hidden behind94the heavy curtains at the window, and every word they spoke reached my ears. Then they sent for Cassion.”
“But where is the paper?”
“I did not learn; they have it hidden, no doubt, awaiting the proper time to produce it. But there is such a document: La Barre explained that clearly, and the reason why he wished Cassion to marry me. They were all three talking when an accident happened, which led to my discovery.”
“Ah! and so that was what hurried the wedding, and sent me on this wild wilderness chase. They would bury me in the woods––sacre!––”
“Hush now––Cassion has left the canoe already, and we can talk of this later. Let us seem to suspect nothing.”
This was the first meal of many eaten together along the river bank in the course of our long journey, yet the recollection of that scene rises before my memory now with peculiar vividness. It was a bright, glorious morning, the arching sky blue overhead, and the air soft with early autumn. Our temporary camp was at the edge of a grove, and below us swept the broad river, a gleaming highway of silvery water without speck upon its surface. Except for our little party of voyagers no evidence of life was visible, not even a distant curl of smoke obscuring the horizon.
Cassion had divided us into groups, and, from where95I had found resting place, with a small flat rock for table, I was enabled to see the others scattered to the edge of the bank, and thus learned for the first time, the character of those with whom I was destined to companion on the long journey. There were but four of us in that first group, which included Père Allouez, a silent man, fingering his cross, and barely touching food. His face under the black cowl was drawn, and creased by strange lines, and his eyes burned with fanaticism. If I had ever dreamed of him as one to whom I might turn for counsel, the thought instantly vanished as our glances met.
A soldier and two Indians served us, while their companions, divided into two groups, were gathered at the other extremity of the ridge, the soldiers under discipline of their own under officers, and the Indians watched over by Sieur De Artigny, who rested, however, slightly apart, his gaze on the broad river. Never once while I observed did he turn and glance my way. I counted the men, as I endeavored to eat, scarcely heeding the few words exchanged by those about me. The Indians numbered ten, including their chief, whom Cassion called Altudah. Chevet named them as Algonquins from the Ottawa, treacherous rascals enough, yet with expert knowledge of water craft.
Altudah was a tall savage, wrapped in gaudy blanket, his face rendered sinister and repulsive by a scar96the full length of his cheek, yet he spoke French fairly well, and someone said that he had three times made journey to Mackinac, and knew the waterways. There were twenty-four soldiers, including a sergeant and corporal, of the Regiment of Picardy; active fellows enough, and accustomed to the frontier, although they gave small evidence of discipline, and their uniforms were in shocking condition. The sergeant was a heavily built, stocky man, but the others were rather undersized, and of little spirit. The same thought must have been in the minds of others, for the expression on Monsieur Cassion’s face was not pleasant as he stared about.
“Chevet,” he exclaimed disgustedly “did ever you see a worse selection for wilderness travel than La Barre has given us? Cast your eyes down the line yonder; by my faith! there is not a real man among them.”
Chevet who had been growling to himself, with scarce a thought other than the food before him, lifted his eyes and looked.
“Not so bad,” he answered finally, the words rumbling in his throat. “Altudah is a good Indian, and has traveled with me before, and the sergeant yonder looks like a fighting man.”
“Ay, but the others?”
“No worse than all the scum. De Baugis had no97better with him, and La Salle led a gang of outcasts. With right leadership you can make them do men’s work. ’Tis no kid-gloved job you have, Monsieur Cassion.”
The insulting indifference of the old fur trader’s tone surprised the Commissaire, and he exhibited resentment.
“You are overly free with your comments, Hugo Chevet. When I wish advice I will ask it.”
“And in the woods I do not always wait to be asked,” returned the older man, lighting his pipe, and calmly puffing out the blue smoke. “Though it is likely enough you will be asking for it before you journey many leagues further.”
“You are under my orders.”
“So La Barre said, but the only duty he gave me was to watch over Adele here. He put no shackle on my tongue. You have chosen your course?”
“Yes, up the Ottawa.”
“I supposed so, although that boy yonder could lead you a shorter passage.”
“How learned you that?”
“By talking with him in Quebec. He even sketched me a map of the route he traveled with La Salle. You knew it not?”
“’Twas of no moment, for my orders bid me go by St. Ignace. Yet it might be well to question him98and the chief also.” He turned to the nearest soldier. “Tell the Algonquin, Altudah, to come here, and Sieur de Artigny.”
They approached together, two specimens of the frontier as different as could be pictured, and stood silent, fronting Cassion who looked at them frowning, and in no pleasant humor. The eyes of the younger man sought my face for an instant, and the swift glance gave harsher note to the Commissaire’s voice.
“We will reload the canoes here for the long voyage,” he said brusquely. “The sergeant will have charge of that, but both of you will be in the leading boat, and will keep well in advance of the others. Our course is by way of the Ottawa. You know that stream, Altudah?”
The Indian bowed his head gravely, and extended one hand beneath the scarlet fold of his blanket.
“Five time, Monsieur.”
“How far to the west, Chief?”
“To place call Green Bay.”
Cassion turned his eyes on De Artigny, a slight sneer curling his lips.
“And you?” he asked coldly.
“But one journey, Monsieur, along the Ottawa and the lakes,” was the quiet answer, “and that three years ago, yet I scarce think I would go astray. ’Tis not a course easily forgotten.”
99
“And beyond Green Bay?”
“I have been to the mouth of the Great River.”
“You!” in surprise. “Were you of that party?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“And you actually reached the sea––the salt water?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Saint Anne! I never half believed the tale true, nor do I think overmuch of your word for it. But let that go. Chevet here tells me you know a shorter journey to the Illinois?”
“Not by canoe, Monsieur. I followed Sieur de la Salle by forest trail to the Straits, and planned to return that way, but ’tis a foot journey.”
“Not fitted for such a party as this?”
“Only as you trust to your rifles for food, bearing what packs we might on our backs. With the lady the trail is scarcely possible.”
“As to the lady I will make my own decision. Besides, our course is decided. We go to St. Ignace. What will be your course from Green Bay?”
“Along the west shore, Monsieur; it is dangerous only by reason of storms.”
“And the distance?”
“From St. Ignace?”
“Ay! from St. Ignace! What distance lies between there and this Fort St. Louis, on the Illinois?”
100
“’Twill be but a venture, Monsieur, but I think ’tis held at a hundred and fifty leagues.”
“Of wilderness?”
“When I passed that way––yes; they tell me now the Jesuits have mission station at Green Bay, and there may be fur traders in Indian villages beyond.”
“No chance to procure supplies?”
“Only scant rations of corn from the Indians.”
“Your report is in accordance with my instructions and maps, and no doubt is correct. That will be all. Take two more men in your boat, and depart at once. We shall follow immediately.”
As De Artigny turned away in obedience to these orders, his glance met mine, and seemed to question. Eager as I was to acquaint him with the true reason of my presence it was impossible. To have exhibited the slightest interest would only increase the enmity between the two men, and serve no good purpose. I did not even venture to gaze after him as he disappeared down the bank, feeling assured that Cassion’s eyes were suspiciously watching me. My appearance of indifference must have been well assumed, for there was a sound of confidence in his voice as he bade us return to the canoes, and I even permitted him to assist me to my feet, and aid me in the descent to the shore.
101CHAPTER VIIII DEFY CASSION
Our progress was slow against the swift current of the St. Lawrence, and we kept close to the overhanging bank, following the guidance of the leading canoe. We were the second in line, and no longer over-crowded, so that I had ample room to rest at ease upon a pile of blankets, and gaze about me with interest on the changing scene.
Cassion, encouraged possibly by my permitting his attendance down the bank, found seat near me, and endeavored to converse; but, although I tried to prove cordial, realizing now that to anger the man would only add to my perplexity, his inane remarks tried me so that I ceased reply, and we finally lapsed into silence. Chevet, who held the steering oar, asked him some questions, which led to a brisk argument, and I turned away my head, glad enough to escape, and be permitted the luxury of my own thoughts.
How beautifully desolate it all was; with what fresh delight each new vista revealed itself. The wild life, the love of wilderness and solitude, was in my blood, and my nature responded to the charm of our surroundings.102I was the daughter of one ever attracted by the frontier, and all my life had been passed amid primitive conditions––the wide out-of-doors was my home, and the lonely places called me. The broad, rapid sweep of the river up which we won our slow passage, the great beetling cliffs dark in shadows, and crowned by trees, the jutting rocks whitened by spray, the headlands cutting off all view ahead, then suddenly receding to permit of our circling on into the unknown––here extended a panorama of which I could never tire.
My imagination swept ahead into the mystery which awaited us in that vast wilderness toward which we journeyed––the dangerous rivers, the portages, the swift rush of gleaming water, the black forests, the plains of waving grass, the Indian villages, and those immense lakes along whose shores we were destined to find way. All this possibility had come to me so unexpectedly, with such suddenness, that even yet I scarcely realized that my surroundings were real. They seemed more a dream than an actual fact, and I was compelled to concentrate my mind on those people about me before I could clearly comprehend the conditions under which I lived.
Yet here was reality enough: the Indian paddlers, stripped to the waist, their bodies glistening, as with steady, tireless strokes, they forced our canoe forward,103following relentlessly the wake of the speeding boat ahead; the little group of soldiers huddled in the bows, several sleeping already, the others amusing themselves with game of cards; while just in front of me sat the priest, his fingers clasping an open book, but his eyes on the river. The silhouette of his face, outlined beyond his black hood, seemed carved from stone, it was so expressionless and hard. There was something so sinister about it that I felt a chill run through me, and averted my eyes, only to encounter the glance of Cassion beside me, who smiled, and pointed out a huge terrace of rock which seemed a castle against the blue of the sky. I think he told me the fanciful name the earlier explorers had given the point, and related some legend with which it was connected, but my mind was not on his tale, and soon he ceased effort to entertain me, and his head nodded sleepily.
I turned to glance back beyond the massive figure of Chevet at the steering oar, to gain glimpse of the canoes behind. The first was well up, so that even the faces of its occupants were revealed, but the second was but a black shapeless thing in the distance, a mere blotch upon the waters.
Ahead of us, now sweeping around the point like a wild bird, amid a smother of spray, appeared the advance canoe. As it disappeared I could distinguish De Artigny at the stern, his coat off, his hands grasping104a paddle. Above the point once more and in smoother water, I was aware that he turned and looked back, shading his eyes from the sun. I could not but wonder what he thought, what possible suspicion had come to him, regarding my presence in the company. There was no way in which he could have learned the truth, for there had been no communication between him and those who knew the facts.
Never would he conceive so wild a thought as my marriage to Cassion. He might, indeed, believe that some strange, sudden necessity had compelled me to accompany them on this adventure, or he might suspect that I had deceived him, knowing all the time that I was to be of the party. I felt the shame of it bring the red blood into my cheeks, and my lips pressed together in firm resolve. I should tell him, tell him all; and he must judge my conduct from my own words, and not those of another. In some manner I must keep him away from Cassion––ay, and from Chevet––until opportunity came for me to first communicate with him.
I was a woman, and some instinct of my nature told me that Sieur de Artigny held me in high esteem. And his was the disposition and the training to cause the striking of a blow first. That must not be, for now I was determined to unravel the cause for Cassion’s eagerness to marry, and La Barre’s willing assistance,105and to accomplish this end there could be no quarreling between us.
The weariness of the long night conquered even my brain, the steady splash of the paddles becoming a lullaby. Insensibly my head rested back against the pile of blankets, the glint of sunshine along the surface of the water vanished as my lashes fell, and, before I knew it, I slept soundly. I awoke with the sun in the western sky, so low down as to peep at me through the upper branches of trees lining the bank. Our surroundings had changed somewhat, the shores being no longer steep, and overhung with rocks, but only slightly uplifted, and covered with dense, dark woods, somber and silent. Their shadows nearly met in midstream, giving to the scene a look of desolation and gloom, the water sweeping on in sullen flow, without sparkle, or gaiety. Our boat clung close to the west shore, and I could look long distances through the aisles of trees into the silent gloom beyond. Not a leaf rustled, not a wild animal moved in the coverts. It was like an abode of death.
And we moved so slowly, struggling upward against the current, for the Indians were resting, and the less expert hands of soldiers were wielding the paddles, urged on by Cassion, who had relieved Chevet at the steering oar. The harsh tones of his voice, and the heavy breathing of the laboring men alone broke the106solemn stillness. I sat up, my body aching from the awkward position in which I lay, and endeavored to discern the other canoes.
Behind us stretched a space of straight water, and one canoe was close, while the second was barely visible along a curve of the shore. Ahead, however, the river appeared vacant, the leading boat having vanished around a wooded bend. My eyes met those of Cassion, and the sight of him instantly restored me to a recollection of my plan––nothing could be gained by open warfare. I permitted my lips to smile, and noted instantly the change of expression in his face.
“I have slept well, Monsieur,” I said pleasantly, “for I was very tired.”
“’Tis the best way on a boat voyage,” assuming his old manner, “but now the day is nearly done.”
“So late as that! You will make camp soon?”
“If that be Cap Sante yonder, ’tis like we shall go ashore beyond. Ay! see the smoke spiral above the trees; a hundred rods more and we make the turn. The fellows will not be sorry, the way they ply the paddles.” He leaned over and shook Chevet. “Time to rouse, Hugo, for we make camp. Bend to it, lads; there is food and a night’s rest waiting you around yonder point. Dig deep, and send her along.”
As we skirted the extremity of shore I saw the opening in the woods, and the gleam of a cheerful fire107amid green grass. The advance canoe swung half-hidden amid the overhanging roots of a huge pine tree, and the men were busily at work ashore. To the right they were already erecting a small tent, its yellow canvas showing plainly against the leafy background of the forest. As we circled the point closely, seeking the still water, we could perceive Altudah standing alone on a flat rock, his red blanket conspicuous as he pointed out the best place for landing. As we nosed into the bank, our sharp bow was grasped by waiting Indians and drawn safely ashore. I reached my feet, stiffened, and scarcely able to move my limbs, but determined to land without the aid of Cassion, whose passage forward was blocked by Chevet’s huge bulk. As my weight rested on the edge of the canoe, De Artigny swung down from behind the chief, and extended his hand.
“A slight spring,” he said, “and you land with dry feet; good! now let me lift you––so.”
I had but the instant; I knew that, for I heard Cassion cry out something just behind me, and, surprised as I was by the sudden appearance of De Artigny, I yet realized the necessity for swift speech.
“Monsieur,” I whispered. “Do not talk, but listen. You would serve me?”
“Ay!”
“Then ask nothing, and above all do not quarrel108with Cassion. I will tell you everything the moment I can see you safely alone. Until then do not seek me. I have your word?”
He did not answer, for the Commissaire grasped my arm, and thrust himself in between us, his action so swift that the impact of his body thrust De Artigny back a step. I saw the hand of the younger man close on the knife hilt at his belt, but was quick enough to avert the hot words burning his lips.
“A bit rough, Monsieur Cassion,” I cried laughing merrily, even as I released my arm. “Why so much haste? I was near falling, and it was but courtesy which led the Sieur de Artigny to extend me his hand. It does not please me for you to be ever seeking a quarrel.”
There must have been that in my face which cooled him, for his hand fell, and his thin lips curled into sarcastic smile.
“If I seemed hasty,” he exclaimed, “it was more because I was blocked by that boor of a Chevet yonder, and it angered me to have this young gamecock ever at hand to push in. What think you you were employed for, fellow––an esquire of dames? Was there not work enough in the camp yonder, that you must be testing your fancy graces every time a boat lands?”
There was no mild look in De Artigny’s eyes as he fronted him, yet he held his temper, recalling my plea109no doubt, and I hastened to step between, and furnish him excuse for silence.
“Surely you do wrong to blame the young man, Monsieur, as but for his aid I would have slipped yonder. There is no cause for hard words, nor do I thank you for making me a subject of quarrel. Is it my tent they erect yonder?”
“Ay,” there was little graciousness to the tone, for the man had the nature of a bully. “’Twas my thought that it be brought for your use; and if Monsieur de Artigny will consent to stand aside, it will give me pleasure to escort you thither.”
The younger man’s eyes glanced from the other’s face into mine, as though seeking reassurance. His hat was instantly in his hand, and he stepped backward, bowing low.
“The wish of the lady is sufficient,” he said quietly, and then stood again erect, facing Cassion. “Yet,” he added slowly, “I would remind Monsieur that while I serve him as a guide, it is as a volunteer, and I am also an officer of France.”
“Of France? Pah! of the renegade La Salle.”
“France has no more loyal servant, Monsieur Cassion in all this western land––nor is he renegade, for he holds the Illinois at the King’s command.”
“Held it––yes; under Frontenac, but not now.”
“We will not quarrel over words, yet not even in110Quebec was it claimed that higher authority than La Barre’s had led to recall. Louis had never interfered, and it is De Tonty, and not De Baugis who is in command at St. Louis by royal order. My right to respect of rank is clearer than your own, Monsieur, so I beg you curb your temper.”
“You threaten me?”
“No; we who live in the wilderness do not talk, we act. I obey your orders, do your will, on this expedition, but as a man, not a slave. In all else we stand equal, and I accept insult from no living man. ’Tis well that you know this, Monsieur.”
The hat was back upon his head, and he had turned away before Cassion found answering speech. It was a jaunty, careless figure, disappearing amid the trees, the very swing of his shoulders a challenge, nor did he so much as glance about to mark the effect of his insolent words. For the instant I believed Cassion’s first thought was murder, for he gripped a pistol in his hand, and flung one foot forward, an oath sputtering between his lips. Yet the arrant coward in him conquered even that mad outburst of passion, and before I could grasp his arm in restraint, the impulse had passed, and he was staring after the slowly receding figure of De Artigny, his fingers nerveless.
“Mon Dieu––no! I’ll show the pup who is the master,” he muttered. “Let him disobey once, and111I’ll stretch his dainty form as I would an Indian cur.”
“Monsieur,” I said, drawing his attention to my presence. “’Tis of no interest to me your silly quarrel with Sieur de Artigny. I am weary with the boat journey, and would rest until food is served.”
“But you heard the young cockerel! What he dared say to me?”
“Surely; and were his words true?”
“True! what mean you? That he would resist my authority?”
“That he held commission from the King, while your only authority was by word of the Governor? Was it not by Royal Orders that La Salle was relieved of command?”
Cassion’s face exhibited embarrassment, yet he managed to laugh.
“A mere boast the boy made, yet with a grain of truth to bolster it. La Barre acted with authority, but there has not been time for his report to be passed upon by Louis. No doubt ’tis now upon the sea.”
“And now for this reason to lay his cause before the King, the Sieur de la Salle, sailed for France.”
“Yes, but too late; already confirmation of La Barre’s act is en route to New France. The crowing cockerel yonder will lose his spurs. But come, ’tis useless to stand here discussing this affair. Let me show you how well your comfort has been attended to.”
112
I walked beside him among the trees, and across the patch of grass to where the tent stood against a background of rock. The Indians and soldiers in separate groups were busied about their fires, and I could distinguish the chief, with Chevet, still beside the canoes, engaged in making them secure for the night. The evening shadows were thickening about us, and the gloom of the woods extended already across the river to the opposite shore.
De Artigny had disappeared, although I glanced about in search for him, as Cassion drew aside the tent flap, and peered within. He appeared pleased at the way in which his orders had been executed.
“’Tis very neat, indeed, Monsieur,” I said pleasantly, glancing inside. “I owe you my thanks.”
“’Twas brought for my own use,” he confessed, encouraged by my graciousness, “for as you know, I had no previous warning that you were to be of our party. Please step within.”
I did so, yet turned instantly to prevent his following me. Already I had determined on my course of action, and now the time had come for me to speak him clearly; yet now that I had definite purpose in view it was no part of my game to anger the man.
“Monsieur,” I said soberly. “I must beg your mercy. I am but a girl, and alone. It is true I am your wife by law, but the change has come so suddenly113that I am yet dazed. Surely you cannot wish to take advantage, or make claim upon me, until I can bid you welcome. I appeal to you as a gentleman.”
He stared into my face, scarcely comprehending all my meaning.
“You would bar me without? You forbid me entrance?”
“Would you seek to enter against my wish?”
“But you are my wife; that you will not deny! What will be said, thought, if I seek rest elsewhere?”
“Monsieur, save for Hugo Chevet, none in this company know the story of that marriage, or why I am here. What I ask brings no stain upon you. ’Tis not that I so dislike you, Monsieur, but I am the daughter of Pierre la Chesnayne, and ’tis not in my blood to yield to force. It will be best to yield me respect and consideration.”
“You threatened me yonder––before La Barre.”
“I spoke wildly, in anger. That passion has passed––now I appeal to your manhood.”
He glanced about, to assure himself we were alone.
“You are a sly wench,” he said, laughing unpleasantly, “but it may be best that I give you your own way for this once. There is time enough in which to teach you my power. And so you shut the tent to me, fair lady, in spite of your pledge to Holy Church. Ah, well! there are nights a plenty between here and St.114Ignace, and you will become lonely enough in the wilderness to welcome me. One kiss, and I leave you.”
“No, Monsieur.”
His eyes were ugly.
“You refuse that!Mon Dieu!Do you think I play? I will have the kiss––or more.”
Furious as the man was I felt no fear of him, merely an intense disgust that his hands should touch me, an indignation that he should offer me such insult. He must have read all this in my eyes, for he made but the one move, and I flung his hand aside as easily as though it had been that of a child. I was angry, so that my lips trembled, and my face grew white, yet it was not the anger that stormed.
“Enough, Monsieur––go!” I said, and pointed to where the fires reddened the darkness. “Do not dare speak to me again this night.”
An instant he hesitated, trying to muster courage, but the bully in him failed, and with an oath, he turned away, and vanished. It was nearly dark then, and I sat down on a blanket at the entrance, and waited, watching the figures between me and the river. I did not think he would come again, but I did not know; it would be safer if I could have word with Chevet. A soldier brought me food, and when he returned for the tins I made him promise to seek my uncle, and send him to me.
115CHAPTER IXTHE FLAMES OF JEALOUSY
My only faith in Hugo Chevet rested in his natural resentment of Cassion’s treachery relative to my father’s fortune. He would feel that he had been cheated, deceived, deprived of his rightful share of the spoils.
The man cared nothing for me, as had already been plainly demonstrated, yet, but for this conspiracy of La Barre and his Commissaire, it would have been his privilege to have handled whatever property Pierre la Chesnayne left at time of his death. He would have been the legal guardian of an heiress, instead of the provider for an unwelcomed child of poverty.
He had been tricked into marrying me to Cassion, feeling that he had thus rid himself of an incumbrance, and at the same time gained a friend and ally at court, and now discovered that by that act he had alienated himself from all chance of ever controlling my inheritance. The knowledge that he had thus been outwitted would rankle in the man’s brain, and he was one to seek revenge. It was actuated by this thought116that I had sent for him, feeling that perhaps at last we had a common cause.
Whether, or not, Cassion would take my dismissal as final I could not feel assured. No doubt he would believe my decision the outburst of a woman’s mood, which he had best honor, but in full faith that a few days would bring to me a change of mind. The man was too pronounced an egotist to ever confess that he could fail in winning the heart of any girl whom he condescended to honor, and the very injury which my repulse had given to his pride would tend to increase his desire to possess me.
However little he had cared before in reality, now his interest would be aroused, and I would seem to him worthy of conquest. He would never stop after what had occurred between us until he had exhausted every power he possessed. Yet I saw nothing more of him that night, although I sat just within the flap of the tent watching the camp between me and the river. Shadowing figures glided about, revealed dimly by the fires, but none of these did I recognize as the Commissaire, nor did I hear his voice.
I had been alone for an hour, already convinced that the soldier had failed to deliver my message, when my Uncle Chevet finally emerged from the shadows, and announced his presence. He appeared a huge, shapeless figure, his very massiveness yielding me a feeling117of protection, and I arose, and joined him. His greeting proved the unhappiness of his mind.
“So you sent for me––why? What has happened between you and Cassion?”
“No more than occurred between us yonder in Quebec, when I informed him that I was his wife in name only,” I answered quietly. “Do you blame me now that you understand his purpose in this marriage?”
“But I don’t understand. You have but aroused my suspicion. Tell me all, and if the man is a villain he shall make answer to me.”
“Ay, if you imagine you have been outplayed in the game, although it is little enough you would care otherwise. Let there be no misunderstanding between us, Monsieur. You sold me to Francois Cassion because you expected to profit through his influence with La Barre. Now you learn otherwise, and the discovery has angered you. For the time being you are on my side––but for how long?”
He stared at me, his slow wits scarcely translating my words. Seemingly the man had but one idea in his thick head.
“How know you the truth of all you have said?” he asked. “Where learned you of this wealth?”
“By overhearing conversation while hidden behind the curtain in La Barre’s office. He spoke freely with his aide, and later with Cassion. It was my discovery118there which led to the forced marriage, and our being sent with this expedition.”
“You heard alone?”
“So they thought, and naturally believed marriage would prevent my ever bearing witness against them. But I was not alone.”
“Mon Dieu!Another heard?”
“Yes, the Sieur de Artigny.”
Chevet grasped my arm, and in the glare of the fire I could see his excitement pictured in his face.
“Who? That lad? You were in hiding there together? And did he realize what was said?”
“That I do not know,” I answered, “for we have exchanged no word since. When my presence was discovered, De Artigny escaped unseen through the open window. I need to meet him again that these matters may be explained, and that I may learn just what he overheard. It was to enlist your aid that I sent for you.”
“To bring the lad here?”
“No; that could not be done without arousing the suspicion of Cassion. The two are already on the verge of quarrel. You must find some way of drawing the Commissaire aside––not tonight, for there is plenty of time before us, and I am sure we are being watched now––and that will afford me opportunity.”
“But why may I not speak him?”
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“You!” I laughed. “He would be likely to talk with you. A sweet message you sent him in Quebec.”
“I was drunk, and Cassion asked it of me.”
“I thought as much; the coward makes you pull his chestnuts from the fire. Do you give me the pledge?”
“Ay! although ’tis not my way to play sweet, when I should enjoy to wring the fellow’s neck. What was it La Barre said?”
I hesitated a moment, doubting how much I had better tell, yet decided it would be best to intrust him with the facts, and some knowledge of what I proposed to do.
“That just before he died my father’s property was restored to him by the King, but the Royal order was never recorded. It exists, but where I do not know, nor do I know as yet for what purpose it was concealed. My marriage to Cassion must have been an afterthought, for he is but a creature of La Barre’s. It is through him the greater villains seek control; but, no doubt, he was a willing tool enough, and expects his share.”
“Why not let me choke the truth out of him then? Bah! it would be easy.”
“For two reasons,” I said earnestly. “First, I doubt if he knows the true conspiracy, or can lay hands on the King’s restoration. Without that we have no proof of fraud. And second, coward though he may120be, his very fear might yield him courage. No, Uncle Chevet, we must wait, and learn these facts through other means than force. ’Tis back in Quebec, not in this wilderness, we will find the needed proofs. What I ask of you is, pretend to know nothing; do not permit Cassion to suspicion that I have confided in you. We must encourage him to talk by saying nothing which will put him on guard.”
“But he is already aware that you have learned the truth.”
“Of that I am not certain. It was the conversation between La Barre and Colonel Delguard which gave me the real cue. Of this Cassion may not have heard, as he entered the room later. I intended to proceed on that theory, and win his confidence, if possible. There is a long, tiresome journey before us, and much may be accomplished before we return.”
Chevet stood silent, his slow mind struggling with the possibilities of my plan. I could realize the amazement with which he comprehended this cool proposition. He, who had considered me a thoughtless girl, incapable of serious planning, was suddenly forced to realize that a woman confronted him, with a will and mind of her own. It was almost a miracle, and he failed to entirely grasp the change which had occurred in my character. He stared at me with dull eyes, like those of an ox, his lips parted as he sought expression.
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“You––you will try, as his wife, to win confession?” he asked finally, grasping vaguely the one thought occurring to him.
“No; there is a better way. I despise the man; I cannot bear that he touch me. More than that, if I read him aright, once I yield and confess myself his property, he will lose all interest in my possession. He is a lady killer; ’tis his boast. The man has never been in love with me; it was not love, but a desire to possess my fortune, which led to his proposal of marriage. Now I shall make him love me.”
“You!Mon Dieu!how?”
“By refusing him, tantalizing him, arousing a desire which I will not gratify. Already his thought of me has changed. Last night in Quebec he was surprised, and aroused to new interest in me as a woman. He considered me before as a helpless girl, with no will, no character––the sort with which he had had his way all through life. He thought I would fall in his arms, and confess him master. The words I spoke to La Barre shocked and startled him out of his self complacency. Nor was that all––even before then he had begun to suspicion my relations with Sieur de Artigny.
“It was at his suggestion, you say, that you sent that young man your message of warning to keep away from me. Good! the poison is already working, and122I mean it shall. Two hours ago, when we landed here, the two men were on verge of quarrel, and blows would have been struck but that I intervened. He is finding me not so easy to control, and later still the mighty Commissaire met with a rebuff which rankles.”
I laughed at the remembrance, satisfied now as I placed the situation in words, that my plans were working well. Chevet stood silent, his mouth agape, struggling to follow my swift speech.
“Do you see now what I mean to do?” I asked gravely. “We shall be alone in the wilderness for months to come. I will be the one woman; perchance the only white woman into whose face he will look until we return to Quebec. I am not vain, yet I am not altogether ill to look upon, nor shall I permit the hardships of this journey to affect my attractiveness. I shall fight him with his own weapons, and win. He will beg, and threaten me, and I shall laugh. He will love me, and I shall mock. There will be jealousy between him and De Artigny, and to win my favor he will confess all that he knows. Tonight he sulks somewhere yonder, already beginning to doubt his power to control me.”
“You have quarreled?”
“No––only that I asserted independence. He would have entered this tent as my husband, and I forbade his doing so. He stormed and threatened, but123dare not venture further. He knows me now as other than a weak girl, but my next lesson must be a more severe one. ’Tis partly to prepare that I sent for you; I ask the loan of a pistol––the smaller one, to be concealed in my dress.”
“You would kill the man?”
“Pooh! small danger of that. You may draw the charge if you will. For him to know that I possess the weapon will protect me. You do not grasp my plan?”
He shook his head gloomily, as though it was all a deep puzzle to his mind, yet his great hand held forth the pistol, the short barrel of which gleamed wickedly in the fire glow, as I thrust it out of sight.
“’Tis not the way I front enemies,” he growled stubbornly, “and I make little of it.Mon Dieu!I make them talk with these hands.”
“But my weapons are those of a woman,” I explained, “and I will learn more than you would with your brute strength. All I ask of you now, Uncle Chevet, is that you keep on friendly terms with Monsieur Cassion, yet repeat nothing to him of what I have said, and gain me opportunity for speech alone with Sieur de Artigny.”
“Ah! perhaps I perceive––you love the young man?”
I grasped his sleeve in my fingers, determined to make this point at least clear to his understanding.124His blunt words had set my pulses throbbing, yet it was resentment, indignation, I felt in strongest measure.
“Mother of God, no! I have spoken with him but three times since we were children. He is merely a friend to be trusted, and he must be made to know my purpose. It will be joy to him to thus affront Cassion, for there is no love lost between them. You understand now?”
He growled something indistinctly in his beard, which I interpreted as assent, but I watched his great form disappear in the direction of the fire, my own mind far from satisfied; the man was so lacking in brains as to be a poor ally, and so obstinate of nature as to make it doubtful if he would long conform to my leadership. Still it was surely better to confide in him to the extent I had than permit him to rage about blindly, and in open hostility to Cassion.
I seated myself just within the tent, my eyes on the scene as revealed in the fire-glow, and reflected again over the details of my hastily born plan. The possibility of the Commissaire’s return did not greatly trouble me, my confidence fortified by the pistol concealed in my waist. No doubt he was already asleep yonder in the shadows, but this night was only the beginning. The opposition he had met would prove a spur to endeavor, and the desire to win me a stronger125incentive than ever. He may have been indifferent, careless before––deeming me easy prey––but from now on I meant to lead him a merry chase.
I cannot recall any feeling of regret, any conception of evil, as my mind settled upon this course of action. There was no reason why I should spare him. He had deliberately lied, and deceived me. His marriage to me was an act of treachery; the only intent to rob me of my just inheritance. There seemed to me no other way left in which I could hope to overcome his power. I was a woman, and must fight with the weapons of my sex; mine was the strength of the weak.
How dark and still it was, for the fires had died down into beds of red ash, and only the stars glimmered along the surface of the river. The only movement I could perceive was the dim outline of a man’s figure moving about near the canoes––a watchman on guard, but whether red or white I could not determine. It was already late, well into the night, and the forest about us was black and still. Slowly my head sank to the blanket, and I slept.